


the hanged man

by oryx



Category: Danball Senki
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never meet your heroes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the hanged man

He’s with the Devas when he gets the text. “Unknown Sender” is displayed on the CCM screen, and he frowns, holding up a hand, silencing Rico mid-sentence. It’s rare, for a CCM to be unable to identify the source of a message. He can only think of one place this text might’ve come from.

 

 _Code Red 5037,_ the message reads, and he stares at it, a tight feeling in his chest. He never paid particularly close attention during all the boring protocol talk, but even he knows that “Code Red” is the highest possible threat level. Hundreds of people’s lives are in danger. Possibly even thousands.

 

“Oi, Kinji,” he says. His voice shakes a little. “You memorized all those Seeker emergency codes, right?”

 

The Devas exchange a glance. Kinji nods, a nervous look in his eyes.

 

“… What does 5037 mean?”

 

Kinji ponders this for a moment, and then his usual pallor seems to turn paler still. His expression slowly morphs into one of startled apprehension.

 

“Duplicity,” he says, like he can’t quite believe it. “It means the Seekers have been betrayed.”

 

Hanzou’s first thoughts are of Yagami and Jin. (Later he will regret suspecting them, but at the time it is what makes the most sense to his anxious mind.) Both of them still have connections to Innovator – perhaps one of them was swayed back to Kaidou Yoshimitsu’s side through bribes or force or some other means. Or perhaps… one of them was a spy all along. Hanzou grimaces at the thought. Either which way, things have officially turned bleak, and the message on the screen seems more like an SOS than a call-to-arms.

 

“Damn it,” Hanzou mutters, and motions for the others to follow him as he gets to his feet and starts to run.

 

.

 

.

 

He gets his first LBX when he’s twelve. His old man tells him they’re “a waste of time and cash,” and he doesn’t have much spending money himself, so he does the next reasonable thing: he steals one. There’s a kid in his class, Hihara Souichi, real scrawny and awkward with coke-bottle glasses. Sits by himself and reads a lot. Hanzou corners him after school one day and threatens him until he hands over his prized LBX, a Buld mod with a gatling gun attachment.

 

He takes it home and tries to learn the basics. He even looks up a how-to guide on the LBX website. But hours later he still can’t make it do more than move jerkily forward, and so he throws the CCM down in frustration and sticks the thing in his closet to gather dust.

 

A few weeks later he turns on the tv and there’s an LBX tournament being broadcast. Nothing else is on, so he settles in to watch with a half-hearted shrug. All the players are skilled, and the battles are pretty fun, but it’s nothing to write home about, really. It’s nothing special.

 

Until _he_ steps up to the diorama.

 

Hanzou has never seen anyone so cool. His face is partially disguised beneath a hoodie, and his eyes are hidden behind dark glasses, and he stands there with his CCM in hand like it’s a weapon, like he’s about to point it at his competitors and pull the trigger. He sends out his LBX and it’s one Hanzou’s never seen before, a Salamander type with brass knuckle armaments. It moves in a firey flash of red, gutting its opponent in ten seconds flat, and when the crowd erupts in applause _he_ merely gives a small, knowing smile. He was always going to win. His opponent never stood a chance in hell.

 

The camera pans over the arena. There’s something written on the back of his sweatshirt in bold, blocky lettering.

 

‘LEX’, it reads. A nickname. He’s an enigma, the announcer says. A mystery. He just showed up one day, out of the blue, and he’s won every battle since. No one knows his true identity.

 

Hanzou finds himself smiling, then, excitement and awe sweeping over him. Maybe… Maybe he’ll try this whole LBX thing again. Maybe he’ll save up some money for his own (a red one, he thinks, that’d be sweet). Maybe he’ll enter tournaments and beat everyone who challenges him and hear the audience chanting his name, too.

 

Maybe someday, with enough practice, he can be just like Lex.

 

.

 

.

 

“It’s Hiyama,” Takuya says. His eyes are blank and stoic, his expression one of carefully-controlled calm. But all the same there is a fragile look about him, as if he might fall apart at any moment. As if the slightest disturbance might shatter him to pieces.

 

“…What?” Hanzou says.

 

“It’s Hiyama,” Takuya repeats. “He’s… He’s been pulling the strings behind everything. The Seekers. The Innovators. Everything. This entire time we’ve been playing right into his hands and now he’s – ”

 

His voice catches in his throat, wavering precariously. He turns away from them, hiding his face from view. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides.

 

“What are you talking about?” Hanzou says. He laughs, but it sounds distant from himself. “Stop joking around. Just tell us who the actual traitor is.”

 

Takuya says nothing. He merely walks away, tension present in the slope of his shoulders, and does not look back.

 

Hanzou stares after him. Little by little he can feel his own smile fading.

 

“No,” he says. “That’s not… That doesn’t make any sense.”

 

Tetsuo puts a comforting hand on his shoulder; he shrugs it away.

 

“Lex wouldn’t do that,” he says, but there is little conviction in his words. His voice is getting louder – shouting at someone who isn’t there. “Lex wouldn’t – he helped _make_ the Seekers, why the fuck would he betray us?? There’s no reason for it! He just… He just wouldn’t. You guys don’t believe it either, right?”

 

Ryuu has lowered himself down on to a nearby chair, his head cradled in his hands. Mika’s eyes are refusing to meet his. Sendou is looking at him without a trace of his usual condescension or spite. Instead, he seems almost somber.

 

“I’m sorry, Leader,” Rico says softly, reaching out to tug on the hem of his jacket, and it is then that the truth finally sinks in.

 

He feels tired, suddenly, a deep weariness settling on his shoulders. He presses his back against the wall and slides down until he’s sitting there on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. He swallows hard. There’s an ache in the back of his throat, and his eyes sting hotly, and he wonders if he might be catching a cold.

 

“…Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, I’m sorry too.”

 

.

 

.

 

There’s a rumor floating around, the summer of his second year in junior high. Somewhere in Misora is a secret, underground LBX arena where all kinds of tough players hang out. There’s even going to be a tournament held there – Angravishdas, where rules are few and playing dirty is not only allowed but actively encouraged. Hanzou’s interest is piqued, and he decides to devote his summer break to finding the place, running into at least five dead-ends before he gets a legit tip-off from his friend Tatsuya.

 

“Blue Cats Café,” Tatsuya says, his voice low like he expects someone to jump out of the shadows. “Over the past few days I’ve seen all kinds of scary-lookin’ motherfuckers going in there. Even saw a couple thugs from North High sneakin’ in the back. Not exactly the typical café clientele, yanno? Something’s goin’ down in that place.”

 

Hanzou nods thoughtfully; presses 1000 yen into Tatsuya’s outstretched hand as thanks and heads off to do some investigation of his own.

 

The bell on the door jingles when he walks into the café. It’s dark inside, the lights dimmed way down low, and the air presses close, smelling of coffee and cigarette smoke. There don’t seem to be any customers. The only other person there is a guy behind the counter, casually reading a newspaper. He peers over top of it when Hanzou approaches.

 

“How can I help you?” he says.

 

“I, uh… I heard this was the place,” Hanzou says, drawing himself up to full height. “For Angravishdas.”

 

The man raises an eyebrow. There’s something familiar about him, Hanzou thinks. Maybe they’ve passed each other on the street before? But no – it feels far more significant than that.

 

“How old are you, kid?”

 

Hanzou blinks. “Fourteen… Why?”

 

“Angravishdas is a harsh competition,” the man says. He leans against the counter with a smile that seems almost like a challenge. “There are no rules in place to protect the player’s LBX like in regular competitions. We don’t see a lot of middle schoolers entering. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

 

“Yes,” Hanzou says quickly. “Yes, definitely! I’m the best in my school at LBX!”

 

“Oh, really?” The man laughs softly. “Alright then…?”

 

“Gouda! Gouda Hanzou.”

 

“Alright, Gouda-kun. How about this? We’ll have a little practice battle, and if you do well enough, you can enter the tournament.”

 

Anticipation burning hot beneath his skin, Hanzou grins and nods his agreement.

 

The man leads him through a hidden doorway, down a flight of steps and into a massive underground room. Hanzou’s eyes widen. He never would have dreamed such a place could be hiding beneath the streets of Misora. Bright overhead lights illuminate the arena below, where several dioramas are already open and waiting.

 

“C’mon,” the man says, gesturing for him to follow, and they descend down to the arena floor, taking their respective places at one of the dioramas. A flat, desert-like setting without much in the way of cover – a good fit for his offense-heavy battle style. Hanzou smiles, confident, and sends out Hakai-O. Across the diorama, the man’s eyes glint behind his dark glasses.

 

“G.Rex,” he announces, and his LBX jumps from his hand on to the battlefield.

 

Hanzou stares at the bright red Salamander-type for a long moment before he finally puts two and two together. He takes a sharp breath.

 

“You,” he says quietly. “Are you… Lex?”

 

When he glances up the man just smiles at him, part of his face cast in shadow, and Hanzou remembers that day two years ago, when he sat down on a whim to watch an LBX tournament.

 

“If you can land a single hit on G.Rex,” Lex says, “then I will officially extend you an invitation to Angravishdas. How does that sound?”

 

Hanzou’s fingers tighten around his CCM.

 

.

 

.

 

Aboard Saturn it is easy to forget. Just focus on the task at hand, he tells himself. Take out any enemy LBX that comes within sight. Simple. Easy. Destroy. Destruction is what Hakai-O was meant for, after all.

 

But once they return to the Eclipse, the weight of everything comes crashing down, an unseen force that wraps around him, squeezing the air from his lungs. His legs are unsteady, and he sinks down into one of the nearby seats, staring out at the other Seekers’ stricken faces without really seeing them.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Sendou draw a card. He can just barely make out the words written at the bottom.

 

The Hanged Man.

 

Sendou’s eyes darken, and he quickly puts it back in his deck without saying a word.

 

There are minutes left in the countdown. Soon there are only seconds. Time is running out. “We have to disconnect,” someone is shouting. Their voice sounds very far away. “We can’t stay any longer!”

 

They all hear the explosions. Eclipse shudders around them as it is hit by the residual force. They all hold their breath.

 

Ban emerges from the connector tunnel, knuckles white as he grips the railing.

 

He is alone, and he is crying, and Hanzou feels something inside himself fade.

 

.

 

.

 

He doesn’t even make it past the semifinals in Angravishdas.

 

He’s angry at himself, disappointed in his own weakness, his opponents’ taunts of “brat” and “delinquent trash” still ringing in his ears. Hakai-O is battered and broken almost to the point of disrepair. But afterwards, as the crowd is clearing out, someone puts a hand on his shoulder.

 

“You did good out there,” Lex says. He smiles, ever so slightly. “Maybe next year you’ll win the whole thing. I could teach you a thing or two in the meantime, if you’d like.”

 

A warm feeling wells up within him, then, spreading from his chest to the tips of his fingers. His anger is pushed aside by a sudden surge of pride.

 

If Lex believes in him, then maybe he stands a chance after all.

 

.

 

.

 

A few weeks before his first year in high school, he realizes that he needs some new clothes. He’s always hated shopping for anything other than LBX accessories, but the strangling tightness of his old shirts around his neck is starting to get out of hand, and so he grabs some money from his secret stash and heads downtown to browse around.

 

In the window of one store he sees a sweatshirt – long and black with white detailing. Straightforward and suave in an effortless sort of way. He tries it on and likes what he sees in the mirror. He looks competent. Subtly dangerous. He takes it up to the counter without a second thought. Buys a nice pair of sunglasses, too, because for some reason the long coat and the shades just go together in his mind.

 

Later, he meets up with the Devas at their headquarters – one last hurrah in their old turf before they move on to a different school, a different world.

 

“Wow, Leader,” Rico exclaims. “You look so cool!”

 

“You think?” he says, grinning.

 

He winks at her, and strikes a stupid pose, and wonders why he feels so sad.


End file.
